


Killer Instinct

by DittyWrites



Series: Scarecrow/Riddler Shenanigans [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Hitman!Jonathan Crane, Implied/Referenced Torture, Murder, Past Torture, Pre-Scarecrow, Stalking, This was supposed to be a one-shot but it's ended up being longer than expected, as always
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4743137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan Crane is a hitman who is willing to take on any job. Edward Nygma is a man with a price on his head. What will happen when Jonathan is hired to assassinate the unsuspecting Nygma? What started out as an easy job soon becomes more complicated as he stalks the man and makes a few interesting observations about his target. But will he be able to go through with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killer Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> Hey :) So this idea has been in my head for a few days now. In Scarecrow: Year One it is confirmed that Jonathan Crane spent time as a hitman before he fully adopted the Scarecrow persona. 
> 
> This is just a nifty little AU which asks what would have happened if he had been hired to kill Edward Nygma. For Nygmas' backstory i'm using the Batman: The Animated Series canon in which he is betrayed after creating his game (The Riddle Of The Minotaur) but in this story he has not become the Riddler yet and is still just Edward Nygma.

Shuffling up to the office building, Jonathan pulled his coat closer around his body as he was met with the harsh winds which were sweeping through Gotham on this late night.

He had received an invitation from a man named Mockridge for the use of his 'services' in eliminating a nuisance and if someone had informed him ten years ago that within the decade he would be a rather successful hitman who specialised in frightening his victims to death he would have most likely laughed in their face.

But life is cruel, Jonathan was evidence of that, and circumstances demanded that he do what he could. Plus, he was not going to decline what was looking to be a decent paycheck.

By his estimations, he was very close to reaching the target amount of money which he had estimated would be needed to set up his own private laboratory and begin experimenting with and producing his precious toxin. Once enough had been produced he could concentrate on eliminating his enemies and fulfilling his vendetta until he reached some level of satisfaction.

However, first things first, he needed money.

Walking through the entrance, he was immediately met by a short, stocky woman who informed him that Mr Mockridge would meet him in a second if he wanted to wait in his office.

Accepting her invitation, Jonathan took a seat in one of the large armchairs which littered the expensively decorated office. He had no knowledge of his potential employer or the type of business he ran but it was irrelevant to the task at hand so he did not bother to investigate the room, instead choosing to idly flick through one of the business magazines which sat before him on the coffee table.

Skimming over an article about the declining influence of the stock market, he barely glanced up when Mockridge himself entered the room.

He was a small man and, even from his seated position, Jonathan could detect all the visible signs of a man who was severely stressed. His suit was wrinkled with the faintest hint of sweat patches developing beneath the armpits and the polite smile which he sent in Jonathans' direction was more of a nervous grimace than anything else.

As he stood, Jonathan held back a smirk as his impressive height allowed him to tower over the tiny man causing him to flinch and take a small step backwards.

“Good evening, Mr Mockridge.”

His voice was low, relaxed, and it contrasted heavily with the squeak which responded to it.

“Good evening, Mr...,” Mockridge paused, “what should I call you?”

“It is unimportant. This is not a social call so there is no need for us to be introduced properly.”

“Well, okay then. Down to business then. I need you to kill a man for me.” Mockridge said quietly as his beady eyes darted around the room. “The name is in this envelope along with half the payment. You get the other half when he's confirmed dead.”

Jonathan picked up the small envelope from the table and opened in slowly.

Inside was a name, address and a small photograph.

Ignoring the information, he stared at the photograph. The man appeared to be entirely average which was the most surprising thing Jonathan could have expected. All of the people he had previously been hired to kill were gang members or shady businessmen and each of them had been at least a little deserving of their fate, not that it mattered.

This man appeared to be neither.

He looked to be about six foot, possessing an average build with the only somewhat distinct feature being his red hair which was uncommon in Gotham City. Only a few years younger than himself, Jonathan estimated, which was also odd. Generally his victims were of his own age or significantly older. This was the first time he had been requested to kill someone younger.

He did not tend to ask questions about his targets but this one had caught his attention.

“And what has this man done to deserve death?” Jonathan asked curiously as he tucked the information inside his jacket. He would do his own research later to gain further insight into the man, and to also make sure he wasn't walking into a trap, but it never hurt to ask.

Mockridge narrowed his eyes at the question.

“Why does it matter? I thought hitmen had a strict policy against asking questions? Why I want him dead is none of your business.”

“Do you see this?”

Jonathan ignored his rude tone as he plucked out a small canister from his pocket.

“This is my own unique chemical composition which I have lovingly named 'Fear Toxin'. I designed this formula especially to punish those who have wronged me in my life. One dose of this chemical will cause an individual to begin hallucinating their most deeply-held fears.”

Continuing, Jonathan was pleased to see the fear which entered Mockridges' eyes as he gazed at the canister.

“Fear is such a fascinating thing, it rules our lives and governs our decisions. It's incredible. However, one of the unfortunate side-effects of this particular toxin is that it can also cause death if the individual is placed under enough stress.”

He paused to return the toxin to his pocket.

“This is only a crude version of the toxin so I haven't _quite_ worked out the correct dose to prevent death but I do have plans to expand in the future after I have achieved my revenge on those select few who deserve it.”

His voice lowered dangerously.

“But if you continue to be less than cordial to me I will take a gamble and show you the full power of my toxin and judging from your already twitchy behaviour I do not imagine that you will last very long under its effects. Would you like your greatest fears presented to you?”

As he concluded his speech, Jonathan watched as Mockridge panicked. He could see the natural instinct to fight or flee dancing within his frightened eyes and by the time he finished Mockridge was quivering.

“N-no there will be no need for that.” He stuttered. “To answer your question more politely, the man in question was a former employee of mine who has been making threats against me since we released a game which he claims to have invented.”

“Judging from the fact that you have hired me instead of contacting the police, I gather that his threats are valid? Seems a shame to have a man murdered over something so petty.”

“Well...technically he did invent the game but I felt that since I was producing it I should have full rights to it. And if I have the full rights then there would be no need to share the profits.”

“So you betrayed a former employee who now wants revenge and you've hired me to eliminate him for you?” Jon summarised.

“Yes.” Mockridge paused. “Will that be an issue?”

“Not at all. I just like to know what I am dealing with,” Jonathan straightened up as he prepared to leave, “and if everything goes as planned then he will be dead within the week.”

“A week?! Why so long? I need him dead now?” Mockridge yelled, momentarily forgetting his quest to be polite. “Did you miss the part where I said he was making threats against me?”

“I like to keep tabs on those I am hunting for a short while for reasons which are entirely my own.” Jonathan said firmly. “This is a non-negotiable aspect of this exchange.”

“Whatever. I just need him dead before he can do anything.”

“Done. Mr Nygma will no longer be an issue for you.”

 


End file.
